


It Came From A Dream

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soulmates AU, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, banquet au, soulmate dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Dreams bridge the gap between soulmates, giving Yuuri Katsuki ultimately useless facts about his soulmate. It’s pushed him through life, propelling him all the way to the Grand Prix. But when his soulmate loses his love for the ice, Yuuri would do anything to bring that love back, however possible.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 28
Kudos: 550





	It Came From A Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radfel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Radfel).



> Big thank you to the amazing Radofueru! I hope this is everything you wanted!

Yuuri lunged for his journal before he could even blink away the rheum from his eyes. He had to write this down before he forgot.

On rare occasions, Yuuri Katsuki woke from his dreams with a vague impression of something beyond his reach. He could feel some small facet of a life that wasn’t his, and he couldn’t risk losing it now. His soulmate was out there somewhere, after all. 

Everything Yuuri knew about him, every little fact and feeling, was important. In dreams, Yuuri had thoughts that felt like his own, but weren’t. These were his soulmate’s, and writing them down gave them substance enough to last, instead of vanishing like wisps of smoke on the wind. 

_Wears Alexander McQueen socks_. 

Yuuri blinked at his own handwriting, the dark edges of ink along each letter, finally realizing what the impression meant. “Who on earth wears designer socks?” Yuuri said aloud, staring at the words like they’d change. He glanced up at his posters on the wall, but the faces staring down at him had no response. 

Yuuri snorted. That was a dumb question. People like Victor Nikiforov wore designer socks. He shoved back the covers on his bed, tossing the journal onto his desk, then stretched with a low groan. 

Yuuri had loved Victor since he was 12. It made sense if his soulmate shared a few quirks with the living legend. Yuuri had always seen himself with someone who exuded that same _Victor Nikiforov_ aura, endlessly confident and charming. 

Maybe his soulmate was a Victor fan as well, and they could bond over their mutual love of the greatest figure skater to ever grace the ice. He started to dress, losing his train of thought with a knock on the door. 

Phichit, his roommate, called out, “Yuuri, you up yet? We’re going to be late!” 

“Almost!” Yuuri yelled back. He tripped over a pant leg and yanked a sweatshirt over his head. Dressed at last, Yuuri poked his way to the kitchen. Phichit passed him a smoothie and they ran out the door. 

“Ciao Ciao’s gonna give us a hard time if we walk in as late as we did yesterday,” Phichit groaned. “All those figures…”

“I kind of like figures,” Yuuri said. He took a long drink. “They’re relaxing.”

“They’re _hard,”_ Phichit said, jabbing a playful elbow at Yuuri. “You’re just a masochist who enjoys them. I wish we could have slept in longer, though… morning practices kill me. And I was having such a good dream, too.” 

“Me too,” Yuuri said wistfully. 

“I had an impression from my soulmate last night.” Phichit grinned. Whenever he spoke about his soulmate, his whole face lit up even brighter than usual. 

Yuuri felt like teasing him, just a little bit. “Did you have another one about his collection of thongs?”

“No! I’ve only had two of those!” Phichit said, puffing a little. Yuuri laughed. “This one was about his shampoo. Apparently he uses this brand, I googled it and it’s one of those purple shampoos for color treated hair? But it was also for curly hair!”

Yuuri smiled. “So he dyes his hair, and it’s curly?” Phichit let out a cheer, spinning in a circle without slowing his forward momentum. 

“Usually the dumb facts are just dumb facts! This one is going to help me solve who my soulmate is once and for all.” He looked determined. 

Yuuri sipped his smoothie and hummed. “Well, I wish you luck. I had one too.”

“Really? And what did dreamboat have for you today?” Phichit said with a leer. “Get another one about his skincare routine?”

Yuuri blushed. “... No, it was about his socks.”

“His… socks?” Phichit said. He gave Yuuri a funny look. 

Yuuri let out a resigned sigh. “He wears designer socks, Phichit. What kind of a person wears designer socks?”

“Wait, seriously?” Phichit said. “What kind? Not like, Nike, right?”

“Alexander McQueen,” Yuuri groaned. 

Phichit let out a raucous laugh. “First the Chanel lip balm and now Alexander McQueen socks. Your soulmate is so ridiculous. I can’t wait to meet him!”

Yuuri couldn’t help his fond smile. “He is pretty ridiculous. But… I can’t wait to meet him, either. And I can’t wait to meet your curly soulmate, too.”

“You’ll be the first to know when I find him,” Phichit swore. “Just have to find that red string and pull.”

They made it to practice in the nick of time, narrowly missing a lecture from their coach. Yuuri carefully tightened his laces before taking to the ice. 

There was something about being on the ice that made him feel whole. He breathed in deeply, the cold air stinging his lungs, making him feel more awake. This was his earliest memory. 

As a small child, barely able to walk, Yuuri had felt it. _I love the ice._ The impression was so strong, so overwhelming that it had made Yuuri blurt out those exact words. 

The first time he had ever gotten an impression from his soulmate, and he was too young to even know what it meant. 

When Yuuri was a little older, skating beside his friends, he felt the impression again, stronger, a memory carved into his very soul. _I_ _love_ _the ice._ Insistent, like a promise to himself. 

Yuuri tasted the biting air of another rink. He could feel another world, the swirl of faces he couldn’t make out, the shouting of a coach he couldn’t identify. It was gone in a blink, but it was there. 

That was the same time that Yuuri’s oldest friend, Yuko, showed him a video of Victor Nikiforov’s skating. The pieces seemed to come together, an unarticulated dream Yuuri doubted would make sense to anyone else. 

Skating was a world his soulmate loved. If he could skate like Victor, perhaps his soulmate would be proud of him. Perhaps his soulmate would find him, somewhere, someday. 

It was a dream Yuuri held onto as the days and weeks before the Grand Prix Final slipped away. But all the while, Yuuri’s nerves grew, faster and faster than ever before. 

He medaled in both of his competitions, compared to Phichit’s one, and as he stood on that podium, Yuuri felt a little star struck with Christophe by his side, grinning at him. 

“I’ll see you in Sochi,” Chris said, winking at the cameras, one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, the other on the third place winner’s. 

Yuuri barely held back the wild rush of anxiety that flooded him, a soft choking sound bubbling from his throat. “Y-yeah, see you there,” Yuuri whispered. 

He was in a daze the entire flight home, and the anxiety only got worse over the following days. He stress ate away at him. He flubbed his jumps in practice. 

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Phichit asked, one week before Yuuri was set to board an airplane to Russia. Yuuri looked up over his tub of green tea mochi ice cream. 

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” Yuuri said quickly, because he was definitely not panicking about skating beside Victor. 

“You’ve put away like, three pints of ice cream this week. You know Celestino’s gonna kill you when he finds out.”

“It’s diet ice cream,” Yuuri said defensively, showing the sticker that said ‘no sugar, 1g carb’. 

Phichit stole the spoon from Yuuri’s hand, eating the ice cream off it before tossing it in the sink. Yuuri scowled as Phichit handed him the lid. Phichit answered by placing his hands on his hips. “It’s not diet if you eat the whole pint. You didn’t let me eat that whole pity cake when I broke up with that guy last semester, so I’m not letting you eat your weight in ice cream.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Yuuri said quickly. He stood up and put the pint back in the fridge. “I’m going to bed.”

“... Okay, Yuuri,” Phichit said. 

Yuuri slumped into his bed with a huff. Every time he thought about the Grand Prix final, his chest tied itself up in knots. There was so much riding on this. Yuuri was getting so old so fast, and there was no way to know if he’d ever make it this far again. 

He had to impress his soulmate. He had to skate like Victor, their hero. He had to show them what skating meant to him. But the more Yuuri wanted it, the more anxious he became. It was the nature of the beast, and it had always been like this. 

Sleep came slowly to him, restless and uneasy. Bad dreams plagued his mind, nagging at his existing doubts and fears. 

And there, on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness, he felt it: a new impression, a new glimpse into his soulmate’s world. Would it be something as horrifying as learning his soulmate woke before his alarm? As endearing as learning his soulmate gave things cute nicknames? 

He felt the familiar sting of ice on his skin. But the love was gone. There was only emptiness, and hollow, half-remembered memories. A fake smile. A faint strain of music, too soft to catch. And then Yuuri woke up, gasping for air.

His chest was wracked by huge, wrenching sobs, and he couldn’t remember why. He was crying. Yuuri lunged for the notebook, sniffling hard. He tried to find the words for what this feeling was, but how did one explain something like this?

_A hollow realization. Lost love. Skating just isn’t the same as it used to be._

Tears stained the notebook in large, round smears of ink, blurring the words as he read them over. Yuuri sucked down a shaky breath. He looked up at the dark window, then back to the notebook, cast in faint moonlight. Yuuri tossed the pen onto his bedside table, then set the notebook beside it. 

Yuuri took another breath. What was he even skating for now? He’d always wanted to know his soulmate was happy. But his soulmate clearly wasn’t. The ice they had loved for two decades finally seemed to lose its luster. 

Could Yuuri do it? Could Yuuri bring back his soulmate’s love for the ice? Ridiculous. Yuuri couldn’t even hold himself together long enough to get his quad salchow right. But he had to try. 

There had to be some way to bring that lost love back. With tears still streaming down his cheeks, emotions not quite his own, he reached for his laptop. There had to be something. Yuuri couldn’t do anything else. 

He was still watching videos when the sun came up, a journal overflowing with notes. The plan was simple enough in theory. Yuuri had a few more days before flying to Russia. Scant time to clean up his skates, but with the pressure looming, Yuuri doubted he’d have another chance. 

He attacked his routines with a new fervor that surprised even Celestino and Phichit. Yuuri had Phichit compare Yuuri’s quad sal against videos of other skaters, with Celestino overseeing the minor adjustments and balance. 

“It’s still not right,” Yuuri muttered. He spun an irritated circle on the ice, breathing out slowly. “It’s not on Victor’s level. It’s not going to impress my soulmate.”

His soulmate was a Victor fan as well, Yuuri had felt something like Victor’s presence once, a kind of warmth that made him think of a kindred spirit to his obsession. How many skaters, professional or otherwise, wouldn’t at least acknowledge Victor’s utter dominance of the sport? Everyone knew Victor, but like Yuuri, his soulmate understood that Victor was more than just the darling of the skating world. 

He represented so much more than that. And Yuuri would show his soulmate exactly what that meant to him, and to the both of them. 

His body was wracked by nerves the entire flight to Russia. He hadn’t practiced as much as he would like, and there was only so much time before the first men’s skate. 

As Yuuri stepped away from the boards, he caught a glimpse of red across the ice. But when he looked up, it was gone, as though it was just a flicker of his imagination. Yuuri shook his head. 

He hadn’t been able to sleep since that haunting impression had flooded his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the deep, aching sorrow of lost love. Now he was seeing things. Yuuri doubted he’d get much rest tonight, even after a sleepless international flight. 

His leg was twitching as he watched Victor take a long drink of water, as effortlessly beautiful as ever. Even with a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, he looked stunning. He turned to Yuuri, blinking twice, before looking away again. 

Yuuri flushed. He needed to focus. Now was not the time to panic. 

Somehow, he survived practice. Yuuri was skating in the first group, and his whole body was on edge. A week of intensive training didn’t make up for the month of stress eating. What if he failed?

The crowded seats were nearly full of people excitedly watching the first group step off the ice before the short program. Celestino clapped a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, grinning wide. “This is it, Yuuri! Go out there and do your best.”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t going to work, Yuuri wasn’t going to pull off his plan-

He thought he saw red from the corner of his eye, but it was just a woman’s red scarf. It worked well enough to snap him out of it before it could progress too far. Yuuri took a slow, steady breath. “Okay, I can do this.”

For them. For himself. 

His soulmate had been a part of his life for longer than he could remember. Even without a name, a face, Yuuri’s soulmate was someone desperately important to him. Yuuri stepped onto the ice, letting the memory of the last impression’s pain fill him. His soulmate needed to remember their love for the ice. 

It flowed through his body the way music did, trembling and powerful, an unstoppable force of energy rushing through him. The audience roared, and Yuuri blinked, almost not realizing he was finished. He panted as he bowed, letting the reverie fall away. His hips stung. He’d fallen on one jump, touched down on another, but he’d held it together for the most part. 

Scores came out. He hadn’t done as well as some of his short programs during his last few competitions, but he wasn’t doing badly for himself. It buoyed him a little bit, enough to steady his nerves as he and Celestino left the kiss and cry. 

He made it through the interviews in a daze. Did his soulmate see? Did Victor? 

As more scores came in, more competitors placing their scores, Yuuri’s name was pushed down the list, lower and lower until it sat around five or six. As expected, Victor Nikiforov took the lead today. 

Yuuri let out a shaky breath, staring out over the ice as it was cleared of bouquets of roses. He wasn’t good enough. His routine wouldn’t be enough to save him, not the way it was now. All that practice, and Yuuri’s chances were slipping down the drain. 

Was it even worth trying at this point? Even if he came back and gave a perfect skate, his free program wouldn’t give him enough points to medal compared to the base values of the others. Yuuri collapsed into bed, tossing and turning. He could hear the voices of other skaters outside. 

Very rarely did Yuuri feel an impression when he wasn’t sleeping. In fact, it was rare for anyone to feel their soulmate when awake. The world between wakefulness and dreams was more open, and it allowed more of a connection between soulmates. This was how impressions slipped through. 

Scientists theorized that dreams helped the brain to catalogue and sift through all the information for the day, sorting it into where it would be most useful or dumping it out. This was how random facts and vague emotions could cross from one soulmate to another. And when one person slept, sometimes they were able to draw upon that reserve of useless information and remember it upon waking. 

This made it very, very hard for someone to feel something of their soulmate, and yet, Yuuri could feel it, distantly, like a word at the edge of his mind that he desperately struggled to remember but couldn’t name. It lingered on the tip of his tongue, but just out of reach. 

Intrigue. Joy. A glimpse of a red string. And then Yuuri fell asleep, smiling to himself for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

He was surprisingly well rested when he warmed up. He was skating first in the last group, and the balancing act of his nerves and his confidence was rapidly tipping back and forth. “Just breathe and focus on what you’ve been doing,” Celestino said. 

Yuuri was unraveling. He had held himself together during the short program, but everything was riding on the free program now. It was too much pressure. Yuuri was going to snap. 

His mind whirled and he couldn’t breathe. The crowd roared too loudly. Yuuri couldn’t hear them at all. 

As he took his place in the center of the ice, Yuuri looked up toward the audience, waiting breathlessly for his cue to start. His hands trembled. Yuuri looked at them, pale fingers pinking in the cold. 

There was a pull, and Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath. Thread wound around his ring finger, as brilliantly red as fresh blood. Yuuri followed it with his eyes, but it winked out of sight before he could see where it led. 

His soulmate was here, so close he must be able to see Yuuri right this very second. Yuuri’s heart lodged hard in his throat, but there was no time to think. The music started, and Yuuri stumbled into action. 

It had dwelled in the back of his mind all morning. There was no way he could medal with his routine as it was. It was stupid to even consider something like this. 

But Yuuri felt something ragged and raw clawing its way out of his chest, and he knew what he needed to do. He could see the changes he needed to make take shape in his mind.

Celestino had given him a program that got Yuuri this far. But Yuuri needed something that took him higher. He needed something like Victor, something to inspire and surprise, the way Yuuri had been surprised year after year. 

This was the bond between them. And Yuuri would prove it here and now. 

The elements were shaky as he jumped. His quads were weaker than he’d like, but his spins and his steps gave him the perfect moment to pour his soul out onto the crystalline ice beneath him. 

But his soulmate was so much more. It wasn’t just Victor Nikiforov bringing them together. It was the way his soulmate filled Yuuri’s life with color from his earliest memories. It was every dream of what they could have together, the littlest, dumbest moments of each other’s lives. 

Yuuri wanted every second of it. He wanted to see his soulmate smile. He wanted to see them on the ice. 

Yuuri placed his routine in the hands of fate. He saved his hardest jump for the end, ending in a tight spin that left him sucking down air and looking out into the crowd, desperate to see the beautiful red string just one more time. He couldn’t find it. 

Trying to hide his disappointment, he hurried off the ice. 

* * *

If you asked Yuuri to compare which was more important, winning gold or finding his soulmate, Yuuri would not know which to choose. 

The issue was that they were tied together so closely in his mind that he simply couldn’t imagine one without the other. 

There was a moment of almost complete mental silence when the scores came out. Celestino was lecturing Yuuri on changing the components without telling him, but fell silent when he saw the numbers. 

Yuuri was easily in first for the time being. It was a new personal best, and even as he celebrated, a more sober part of him was set on edge. There were still plenty of skaters coming after him. Only time would tell where Yuuri fell. 

One by one, the others performed. One by one, they fell just a hair short of Yuuri. The third-to-last skater, JJ, claimed the spot directly below Yuuri’s. 

Celestino was cheering in his ear, but Yuuri could barely hear it. He had medaled. There was only Chris and Victor left, and Yuuri was still at the top of the board. Chris’s skate took a tidy lead over Yuuri’s.

Then, at last, it was time. Victor’s performance was the most beautiful thing Yuuri could imagine. When Victor skated, the whole world stopped. But there was a sadness in this routine as well. The longing was almost palpable as Victor reached for something he couldn’t seem to find. 

The longing felt so familiar. His own soulmate had felt the same, with his lost love for the ice. Yuuri desperately hoped that, wherever they were, they found what they were missing. 

As Yuuri stood on the podium beside Chris and Victor, the world had a dreamlike unreality to it. Victor beamed and waved at the crowd as he lifted his fifth consecutive gold medal aloft, kissing it. 

Victor grinned first at Chris, then at Yuuri. “Congrats! We should take a selfie together. Okay?” 

Yuuri didn’t even hear himself say, “okay,” as he was too overwhelmed with his own racing thoughts. He had medaled. Did his soulmate watch? Did they see? 

“I’ve never seen someone fall like that and still medal!” Victor chirped. “Your step sequences are amazing!”

“Always trust Yuuri to have expressive performances,” Chris said. “Welcome to the podium. How does it feel?”

“Unreal,” Yuuri said, looking out over the crowd. His hands trembled. Was his soulmate still there? The moment seemed to go by too quickly, and they left the ice together, where reporters were waiting. Victor stopped dead, staring at Yuuri like he’d seen a ghost. 

Yuuri tilted his head, confused, as Celestino came up to him, ushering him into the throng of reporters. 

“Wait! Yuuri!” Victor called. Yuuri looked back at him, but they were both swallowed up by overeager reporters. It was all Yuuri could do to answer their questions, and like that, Victor was out of sight, no matter how hard Yuuri craned his neck to look. 

The mob of reporters made it impossible to think as Yuuri was shuffled to the conference room. Everything was a blur. Victor spent most of the conference staring at Yuuri, and it was uncomfortable to feel the weight of that wide eyed blue gaze. 

At the end of it all, Yuuri practically bolted before Victor could talk to him. Could Victor tell that Yuuri used him as a model for all his jumps, his spins? Would he be mad? Or did he think Yuuri had cheated his way here? Everyone could see Yuuri didn’t belong here. 

At the banquet, Yuuri grabbed the nearest flute of champagne. He tipped his glass back and drained it, then reached for another, playing the role of wallflower. 

“You won! You should be celebrating!” Celestino said, leading Yuuri out of the corner. The drinks were already starting to go to his head. He ducked through the crowd when he saw Victor come closer. Why was he hiding? Even he didn’t know anymore. 

The things he did started to blur. Where did the pole come from? Why was he dancing with Yuri Plisetsky? Chris was much more tanned than Yuuri expected, and not a single tan line to be seen. 

And Victor… Victor was beautiful. He started speaking fast, too fast for Yuuri to understand, but everyone else so far had wanted to dance. Yuuri grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to the dance floor with a laugh. They romped their way through the night, and Yuuri had never seen anything so beautiful as their hands clasped together. 

A red thread bound their hands together for a split second. Yuuri laughed and staggered drunkenly against Victor. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if we were soulmates?” he slurred. “I always thought… you were so cool… and my soulmate was always so cute…”

Victor’s cheeks were pink. “Cute?”

“Like using Chanel lip balm,” Yuuri said. “And sniffing books the first time he opens them….” Yuuri was blabbering now, and he couldn’t make himself shut up. He looked up at Victor, eyes sparkling. “I wish it could be true…. My soulmate was so sad… but you look happy now!” Yuuri chirped. 

“I am happy now. But… what do you mean, sad?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri groaned. He didn’t want to think about the darkness he felt from his soulmate, the emptiness of the lost love, like something had been peeled away over decades and now all that was left was a big, aching hole. 

“He used to love skating,” Yuuri numbed. He collapsed against Victor’s chest, mumbling into the fabric. “But now all I feel from him is… sadness. It’s not the same. I want… want him to smile. I bet he’s got a lovely smile…” Yuuri mumbled. He stumbled and Victor caught him. 

“Let’s get you to your room,” Victor said. He pulled a shirt over Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri resisted with a low groan. 

“Victoooor,” Yuuri groaned. He rubbed his cheek against Victor’s chest. “Don’t want to leave… Want to find them…”

“Find who, Yuuri? You’ve already found your soulmate.” Victor’s voice was light and teasing, but there was genuine confusion. 

Yuuri pouted. “I did? When? Victooor, we should meet him. Please?”

Victor frowned softly, fear in his eyes. Yuuri hated that look, how it soured Victor’s lovely face. He laced their fingers together. Victor’s palm was so warm against his own.

“You don’t see it?” Victor asked, tipping his head toward their interlaced fingers. “Please, Yuuri, say you see them too.”

Red wound around their hands in delicate threads. Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath as he realized what the threads meant. They caught the air and twisted round and round, dancing circles around their joined hands and keeping them bound together. “V-Victor! We’re—”

“We are,” Victor said softly. He crooned into Yuuri’s ear. “So will you please let me take you back to your room?”

Yuuri hummed and delightedly let Victor take him to the elevator, their hands never separating. He leaned against Victor, staring up at Victor’s pretty face. 

“My soulmate,” he whispered in wonder. “Is it true that you practiced kissing a pillow when you were twelve—”

“No!” Victor said quickly, blushing a brilliant red. “I- only did that one time, just as an experiment. And you did it too!”

“Only because you did it first and I was curious,” Yuuri slurred. He laughed quietly. “Victor, so pretty when you blush.”

The blush on Victor’s face traveled down his neck. “You’re much more forward than I expected of you, Yuuri,” Victor murmured. He smiled. Yuuri blinked slowly at pink tip of Victor’s nose, the sparkle in Victor’s eye. “I like that a lot.”

Yuuri’s mind was sluggish and slow, but he could see the facts for what they were, in his inebriated state— Victor knew they were soulmates. This meant…. “Oh,” Yuuri whispered. 

He stretched up on his toes, barely able to stay upright. His mind was so foggy and things seemed like such brilliant ideas. Which ones would he regret in the morning and which ones would he not regret?

He pressed his lips to Victor’s. 

It hit him in a sudden rush, a realization that he was kissing his soulmate, kissing _Victor._ His heart felt like fireworks, like it had been struck dead on by a lightning bolt. He was soaring in the blink of an eye. 

Victor was frozen against him. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, drawing back. Then Victor melted, an arm coming down around Yuuri’s waist and holding him close. The kiss deepened. 

Yuuri let out a soft moan as Victor met him where he was, drawing his lips open. The heat was inviting, drawing Yuuri in closer, deeper. The first brush of Victor’s tongue against his own had Yuuri moaning. 

There was an alien pleasure to it, a slightly competitive edge that Yuuri surged into. He slipped his tongue inside Victor’s mouth, savoring the delicious moans it drew out and the way Victor’s hands flew down to squeeze Yuuri’s ass through his boxer briefs. Yuuri’s trousers were still flung over Victor’s shoulder, and the air was cool on Yuuri’s naked thighs. 

He could taste champagne on Victor’s tongue, smell the sweet scent of Victor’s cologne and a faint whiff of alcohol and sweat from the banquet. Victor’s iron grip on Yuuri’s ass clamped down more firmly. The elevator doors slid open to their floor and Yuuri stumbled backward. 

They didn’t fully break apart, spinning one another in utter bliss as they came upon Yuuri’s door. Yuuri patted his underwear where his pockets would be, staggering on his feet. 

Victor broke the kiss. “Key?” he asked. He touched Yuuri’s trousers, but he shook his head when he came up empty. 

“Victoooor,” Yuuri slurred. He stretched on his toes and rubbed his cheek against Victor’s. “Let’s go to your room, okay?” 

Victor let out an agreeable sound, and he guided them down the hall, their lips greedily seeking one another with a drunken hunger. Yuuri couldn’t help but let out an incredulous giggle as they spun around, leaning against the wall beside the door. Victor patted his own suit pocket and produced the keycard, fumbling once, twice, three times until the door beeped and let them in. 

They fell into the room, and Yuuri let out a soft gasp under his breath as his eyes flew open, seeing where he was. A delicate blush colored both of their faces. Yuuri stood frozen in drunken shock. The hotel room was identical to Yuuri’s, save for the suitcase open on the table and the skating costumes in clear bags hanging in the doorway of the closet. 

Victor was pulling off his suit jacket, and Yuuri let out another bright, dizzy giggle. His head swirled as he spun around, unable to resist staring at Victor’s beautiful face in the low light. Soulmates. _Soulmates._ The thin red thread danced on an unseen wind, twirling through the air at a leisurely pace in the distance between them. 

Yuuri held his hand out in the air, marveling at the way the string bobbed and followed. Victor smiled. Yuuri could hear his heart pounding as Victor lifted his own hand, placing his palm against Yuuri’s before twining their fingers together. Then Victor bowed his head and kissed their interlaced fingers. 

Yuuri’s knees almost gave out, and he tugged Victor to the bed with a bright gasp of joy. His hands fumbled up his shirt, finding mismatched buttons and yanking them open, exposing his chest and tossing the shirt behind him. They were suddenly close, so unbelievably close, kissing again. Yuuri unbuttoned Victor’s shirt as well, helping him to shrug it off his shoulders. 

Yuuri grew bolder in the twist of his tongue, holding Victor’s head steady. Yuuri’s skin felt feverish, and he yanked the last piece of fabric from his hips, leaving himself completely nude. The air felt cool. 

They fell backwards against the headboard, curled up against each other. All sense of time faded. Yuuri found himself lost in the rush of teasing touches, their hands roaming into places that Yuuri had never been touched before.

He slipped his hands down the back of Victor’s trousers and gave the firm butt a squeeze, only to have Victor cup Yuuri’s chest, warm fingertips splayed possessively over the skin. His thumbs rested on Yuuri’s nipples. The only sound was the rustling bedsheets and the chorus of their moans. He felt like a horny teenager. 

He’d never found himself so desperate for another person, so lost in the color of their eyes, the touch of their skin. Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from grinding against Victor’s thigh, breath shaky as rutted. “Victor…” Yuuri gasped. His breath was harsh. Kissing Victor stole his breath away more than the most difficult routine ever could. 

“Yuuri,” Victor echoed, breathless and light. It sent Yuuri’s heart soaring. For long minutes, they simply kissed, too lost in the wonder of the other’s body. Every embrace made the red string wrap around them more and more tightly, binding them together for the rest of their lives. Victor let out a breathy groan as his hand slipped between them, palming Yuuri’s cock. 

Warmth enveloped his length, and Yuuri went stiff for a split second before melting. The friction of Victor’s palm was delicious. Their kiss broke with a chorus of harsh breaths. 

“Do you want to top or me?” Victor asked. An undercurrent of urgency colored his words, thick with desire that matched Yuuri’s own. 

Yuuri stole another kiss. “You decide.” He would do anything to make his idol feel good, fill any role to ensure Victor was happy with his soulmate. He wondered if Victor knew just how much of Yuuri’s life had been devoted to him— the legend and the soulmate both. 

Victor shed his trousers and reached out for something beyond Yuuri’s sight. Lube. He warmed it between his fingers while Yuuri tugged his pair of black underwear down his hips. He watched with bated breath to see Victor’s choice, what his soulmate desired, what place Yuuri could fit into tonight to make him happy. 

Victor brought his hand down between his own thighs, spreading his legs enough to get access to everything. A soft pink hole winked at Yuuri beneath the perineum. Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath as he watched Victor’s slender fingers slip down, drawing a slow circle around the ring of muscle. The pass left a thin, shiny layer of lube gleaming on the pink skin. 

Then Victor pressed his index finger against the pucker, taking a slow, deep breath before slipping it inside himself. Both of them let out a soft huff as the fingertip disappeared inside Victor’s body, and Yuuri muffled a soft, drunken giggle. He had been so enraptured by the sight, struck motionless in wonder, and Victor smiled at him when the spell finally broke. 

“Do you like what you see?” Victor murmured. 

Yuuri nodded slowly, sliding down the bed to settle between Victor’s thighs. “So pretty,” he slurred softly, running his hands gently down Victor’s thigh to feel the velvety-soft skin. Silver curls framed Victor’s slowly stiffening cock, the color of it flushing darker pink as it grew harder. The muscles of Victor’s entrance twitched around Victor’s fingertip.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Victor said apologetically, “so it might take a minute for me to get used to this.”

“Can I help?” Yuuri asked. He looked up at Victor, and his heart leapt when he saw that beautiful smile pointed down at him. Victor nodded. 

Yuuri had never done something like this before, and the uncharted territory set his nerves off unpleasantly. But his drunken brain dredged up memories of porn, and it was not so easily dissuaded from seeing all of Victor exposed in front of him like the filthiest wet dream. 

Yuuri wiped the drool from his chin and leaned down, unable to hold himself back any longer. Victor shifted against the headboard as Yuuri tipped his head down Victor’s thigh, leaving soft kisses on the skin. A whisper-soft moan flitted through the air. 

Feeling bolder now than before, and with a courage that only came from one or two too many glasses of champagne, Yuuri kissed his way down Victor’s thighs, watching, almost transfixed as Victor slipped his finger inside himself. 

It was a stunning sight, watching the dusky pink of Victor’s asshole swallow up the tip of his finger, twitching and hungrily sucking it in deeper and deeper with every shallow thrust. Victor was biting his lip, a pretty flush across his cheeks. Yuuri kissed the skin beside it, then slowly moved up, leaving soft kisses and little kittenish licks in his wake. He dragged the flat of his tongue over Victor’s soft, round balls, then drew back, satisfied with the darkening flush traveling down Victor’s chest.

“Victooor,” Yuuri moaned. He reached down, giving his cock a few strokes. Yuuri was fiercely hard, his erect cock bobbing in the air and drooling down the tip, and he could barely believe the sight before him. 

“You’re excited too, aren’t you?” Victor asked, breathless as he slipped another finger inside. He reached for Yuuri’s cock, timing the thrusts of his fingers with the strokes he gave to Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri gasped softly, nodding. 

He couldn’t look away from the pale, slender fingers fucking Victor’s body. They pulled out, lube webbing between them and leaving Victor’s entrance glistening. Victor smiled with an impish grin as he turned on his side, legs still splayed apart on the bed. Yuuri curled up at his back. 

His cock bobbed against Victor’s spine, rubbing softly against the small of his back with just the right amount of friction to tease Yuuri in the most cruel ways. Victor reached between his thighs, grasping Yuuri’s cock to slick it up with the rest of the lube on his hands. Victor tipped his head back so he could look Yuuri in the eyes. 

He wore a soft, wonderstruck smile. “My soulmate…” Victor whispered.

“My soulmate,” Yuuri echoed breathlessly. He let his head fall onto the pillow next to Victor’s shoulder, pressing his lips to the skin as he shuffled his hips. Every thrust was a bit clumsy, but Yuuri’s enthusiasm seemed to make Victor laugh. Yuuri kissed his shoulder, right where it met the fair column of Victor’s throat, and he slipped his hand between Victor’s spread legs.

He grasped his cock, guiding the head to butt against Victor’s warm entrance. Victor let out a breathy moan. “Yuuri…” Yuuri closed his eyes and pressed his hips up. A shallow gasp broke free.

Victor’s body opened easily for him, warm and slick and wet as it sucked Yuuri’s cock inside. The walls felt like rich velvet, pressure bearing deliciously down on all sides. Yuuri stifled a cry as Victor’s body spasmed around him. His toes curled. He almost came right there, too overwhelmed to move inside. 

Victor was panting hard as well. He reached back for Yuuri’s hand, lacing their fingers together again. His voice was soft as he murmured, “go slow at first?”

Yuuri nodded against his skin, muffling his moan with Victor’s shoulder. It was dizzyingly good, better than anything Yuuri had ever felt before in his life. Victor hummed gently, whimpering every time Yuuri shifted his hips even a fraction of an inch. 

“When’s the last time you touched yourself inside?” Yuuri slurred softly. He laid their clasped hands atop Victor’s hip, rubbing the skin with his thumb. His free hand came up to pet Victor’s messy, beautiful silver hair where it fanned over the pillow. 

Victor moaned as Yuuri’s cock dragged inside him, squeezing Yuuri’s hand tight. “Never with another person,” he said. The expression on his face looked raw as Yuuri rolled his hips, pushing in a little deeper. 

“I’m Victor’s fiiirst,” Yuuri crooned in childish glee. He rocked his hips again, listening to the pretty sound of Victor’s voice. 

“Oh, fuck, Yuuri,” Victor gasped. His free hand flew out to clutch at the sheets. “Deeper,” Victor ground out. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yes, yes,” Yuuri agreed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Feels so good… Victor’s my first too…”

“Yeah?” Victor panted. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. When he cocked his hips, canting them toward Yuuri’s, the change in position left Yuuri moaning. “Let’s both feel really good then, Yuuri. My soulmate…”

Yuuri felt a flash of inspiration. He grabbed a pillow from beside their heads, and he rested it in front of Victor’s cock. Then he reached for Victor’s shoulders and, without pulling out, rolled Victor forward and onto his stomach, hips tilted up on the pillow. Victor let out a short sound of surprise. 

The new angle was even better than Yuuri imagined. He laid across Victor’s broad-shouldered back and fucked into the warm, waiting entrance, grasping at Victor’s perfect, pert butt and rabbiting his hips. Victor’s voice rose louder. “Victoor,” Yuuri slurred, kissing his back as he fucked him frantically. “Feels so good… so good.”

He hooked his legs around Victor’s, using the new angle to thrust deeper and harder into the slick softness of Victor’s body. It drew him in more and more. The air was filled with their breathy moans, the wet slap of Yuuri’s cock plunging into Victor’s body and then pulling out, leaving Victor empty and begging Yuuri for more. 

He was lost. His mind was gone, left a slave to his baser instincts and the commands from Victor to go _harder,_ to go _faster,_ to fuck Victor the way no one had ever done before. His eyes locked on his cock, vanishing inside Victor’s pretty pink hole and claiming Victor as his own, as his soulmate. Red thread danced in the air around him with their thrusts. 

Yuuri giggled with delirious pride. He might have lost out on Grand Prix gold, but he was fucking Victor Nikiforov! He curled himself up against Victor’s back, taking the chance to slam his cock into the sweet, velvety insides. All his senses blurred. 

Victor’s knuckles clenched around the sheets, his soft cries filling the air, throaty with his pleasure. Yuuri tipped his hips, until his cock dragged along the spot inside Victor’s body he’d been searching for. Victor bucked beneath him. “Ohmygod, Yuuri, do that again, please,” Victor gasped. 

Yuuri groaned weakly and complied, frantically slamming his cock against that button of pleasure. Victor’s screams filled the air, and Yuuri wailed as his cock gave a sudden twitch. His balls ached, and the heat inside him was growing almost unbearable. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum,” Yuuri whined. 

Victor jerked around him suddenly, sharp breath hissing between his teeth. The spasming of Victor’s body pushed Yuuri right over the edge, one orgasm leading to another like dominos in a chain. Yuuri cried out softly as his cock jerked inside, emptying his load inside Victor’s ass in thick spurts. 

A wave of exhaustion flooded over him. He collapsed weakly on top of Victor, not wanting to move. They were slow to catch their breath. 

Cum trickled slowly out from beside his cock. Yuuri pulled out slowly. Victor grunted at the emptiness, and he tipped Yuuri off his back, turning over so they were facing one another. Victor’s lips tasted sweet as they kissed again. Streaks of white painted Victor’s stomach. 

For several minutes, it was quiet, save for the whispers of their kisses traded back and forth. Victor sucked on Yuuri’s tongue, then pulled back, stroking over Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri whined and rutted into his hand, stirring again. “You’re still hard?” Victor asked, looking mystified. 

Yuuri blushed. “I- I’m sorry. You’re just… really really handsome, Victor. I’m… such a big fan. I didn’t think… I would ever get to see you like this.”

Victor hummed, drawing Yuuri’s tongue into a slow dance. “I’m sorry if it felt like I’m teasing. I know you’re a fan, Yuuri. I feel like I know everything about you. How you drink tea instead of coffee, how you collect posters with my face, the way you sniff laundry as soon as it comes out of the dryer, because you like how it smells.”

Yuuri stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. 

Victor stroked Yuuri’s cheek, smiling softly. “I imagined meeting you so many times. I would have given up skating, if not for you. I knew you were a younger skater, desperate to compete. I was so scared you’d only see me as someone to beat. But the way you smiled when you stood on the podium, the way you looked when they placed that medal on your neck. The way you looked at me…”

“You mean everything to me,” Yuuri murmured. He rested his head on the pillow, blinking slowly. His mouth was beginning to feel horrifically dry, and the edges of a headache were approaching. “You’ve always meant everything. As Victor Nikiforov, as my soulmate. I’ve chased you all my life. It feels like a dream to be here.”

“It does feel like a dream,” Victor murmured. He stroked Yuuri’s cock again with a few slow tugs, then smiled, spreading his legs apart. “You can take me again, if you want. I don’t think I can come again, but you’re welcome to keep going as long as you like.”

Awareness and anxiety flickered in the back of Yuuri’s mind like unwanted guests. The last bit of alcohol in his mind seemed to push back against them, and Yuuri’s attention warred. “But… if it’s just me- but you should get something too-”

“I will. I like being close to you. Just make it good for both of us, okay?” The anxiety lost this round as Victor kissed Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri hummed, letting Victor wrap his legs around Yuuri’s waist and draw him in. Victor fed Yuuri’s cock back inside his sloppy, well-fucked hole. It was even slicker now that Yuuri’s cum had soaked his inner walls, making a mess for them both, but it felt so good Yuuri couldn’t even manage to say any words. 

Yuuri hummed softly, craning his neck down to Victor’s chest. The soft, dusky pink nipples proved too tempting by half. Yuuri sucked one into his lips as he fucked Victor gently. He was too tired for any real thrusts, but he had enough energy to keep his hips rolling as he suckled and licked at Victor’s nipple.

Victor stroked his hair absently, humming softly in pleasure every time Yuuri’s cock brushed something inside him that felt good. Yuuri came again inside, leaving Victor so hot and sticky and wet that Yuuri couldn’t bear to pull out. His eyes grew heavy, and he slowly fell asleep. 

* * *

He woke with a start, memories from last night weighing on his mind. Yuuri lurched backward, falling off the bed with a startled cry. It was a dream, it had to be a dream-

A red thread rose off Yuuri’s pinky finger, vanishing under the sheets. A scruffy silver head poked out from under the comforter, blinking with sleepy blue eyes. “Yuuuri,” Victor murmured. “Come back to bed.”

“It’s not a dream,” Yuuri whispered, mostly to himself. He had drank a few glasses of champagne last night. Usually he forgot everything, especially if he fell asleep still drunk off his ass. 

Victor tilted his head, confused. “A dream?”

Yuuri slowly stood up, sucking down shaky breaths as he looked at the room around him. “It feels like a dream. Victor Nikiforov as my soulmate. I’m- this is fine,” Yuuri sputtered, only slightly hysterical. His voice rose in pitch as he spoke. 

Victor pushed back the sheets, frowning. He winced as he sat up, and Yuuri took an automatic, stumbling step forward. “Are you okay?” Yuuri asked.

Victor smiled up at him. “We just got a little more enthusiastic than I expected. Won’t you come back to bed, Yuuri?” Yuuri was speechless as Victor reached out for him, a hand extended over the sheets. “Come back to where it’s warm. We can order breakfast.”

Yuuri muffled the urge to scream. He couldn’t believe the things he had done last night. How did Victor not hate him? How could something like this ever happen?

And then Victor smiled at him, beckoning with his fingers. Yuuri stumbled forward, falling to his knees and finding himself wrapped in Victor’s arms, the warmth of the blankets around him. “Soulmates,” Yuuri whispered. 

“You overthink things, don’t you?” Victor asked. “Right as I woke up, I could feel you. An impression of you, anyway. You were happy. But there was something else, too, something darker. I didn’t like how it felt. Anxiety?” Victor asked.

Yuuri slowly nodded. “Sometimes… I’m sorry I can’t be a better soulmate for you.”

“Wrong!” Victor sang. He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheekbone. “There is no one more perfect for me than you. Or are you saying my dreams of you are wrong?” Yuuri blinked slowly. “I don’t want this morning to end,” Victor said at last. “Let’s enjoy it, as much as we can.”

Yuuri nuzzled his cheek into Victor’s shoulder, squeezing him tight. “As much as you want. Anything you want.” 

Between them, the red thread shimmered, coalescing between them in a cloud of soft red light. Yuuri smiled. 


End file.
